A bay and not oceans

I'm too wild to lock away, like you're too precious to try to forget, or forget anyway accidentally. But night divides us by separate houses that aren't homes. Still we raise the flag. Still we pretend it need only be seen from across a bay, and not oceans. And still we rest restlessly, and sleeplessly turn over, or haunt our own dreams. They stuck, like a rewritten memory once lived. Parts of us are all pieces: can't be discarded easily, or easily changed to fit better.